Dark Soul: Rebirth the Dark
by shadowsilv3r
Summary: As an Undead wanders towards an unknown destination for an unknown purpose, an easily forgotten darkness seeks to return. terrible summary for hopefully a decent story.
1. Prologue

"_You travel onward through the forest, without any memory as to why. You know only the compulsion to move forward. Every now and then, you will stumble and fall to the ground… dead."_

"_As you lay dying, you dream… you dream of a great mountain in the far north, the cold winds howling as the peak is lost within the storming clouds above. Your vision pierces through the clouds and you see a decrepit husk of a once mighty city… a foulness flowing through its street and buildings."_

"_Then… you breathe again…"_

"_You travel onward through the forest, without any memory as to why. You know only the compulsion to move onward…"_

**Dark souls:**

'_**Rebirth the Dark'**_


	2. Deprived

_**Chapter 1: Deprived**_

For an eternity the nearly hollowed individual walks ever northward; until the seasonal leaves fell from their branches, until a chill wind permeates the air eternally, until the ground has long hidden under a blanket of white. The Undead soon finds shelter from the cold in the form of a bonfire crackling weakly just off the worn road. It sits in the snow and muck covered ground without a care as it stares hypnotically into the flame with a pair of glazed-over eyes. Out of the miserable being's peripherals it can almost make out other figures huddled around the flame, if the near-hollow where to look at them, they would disappear just as quickly as they appeared, but it was too busy staring into the flame to care.

Functioning almost entirely on instinct, the near-hollow reaches into the folds of its ragged clothing and produces a small black flame, _Humanity_, and offers it to the bonfire. As the small black flame becomes consumed by the larger bonfire the Undead's flesh smooth out into healthy skin, its fogged eyes regain their light and its wisps of grey hair thicken out into dark locks.

Memories resurface to its mind as it recalls pieces of its life before, even if the details are still foggy. He, yes it is a he, was a knight before all this, before the curse consumed him body and soul. He looks through his meager gathering of things within his cloths; all he finds is a rusted sword hilt with about seven inches of blade, a shattered shield beyond repair, and a small trinket, a necklace with a rusted locket. He tries to pry the locket open, but finds that it requires a key, upon further searching he finds none. He must have lost it, like his memories.

"You seek Zhyrleix, don't you friend?" The undead raised his head to find a man sit down from across the fire. He wore boiled leather armor and a full metal helm to hide his face. strapped to his hip was a shortsword of basic make.

"Well go on," the warrior insisted to the undead, "yes or no?"

"The undead spends a few seconds trying to form the words in his mouth, finding it difficult.

'_How long has it been since you last heard your own voice?'_

"I… don't… know," The undead said slowly.

"Bwuhahahaha…" The warrior gave a hearty laugh, "All who travel north seek only Zhyrleix friend, even if they don't realize it,"

"What… is Zhyrleix?" the undead questioned, getting a hang of speaking again.

"A Kingdom that was raised, usurped, fallen, usurped again, and died," The warrior explained, "By two great kings it was ruled, both slaves of fate, both slaves of their own inevitability,"

"Fate is a cruel one in these lands of the north," The warrior then lowered his voice ominously, "and none may escape it,"

"What is in Zhyrleix?" the undead questioned further.

The warrior removed his helmet, revealing faded hair and wrinkled skin, his eyes piercing, "Everything we hope to strive for,"

He then stood up and walked around the bonfire before offering a hand to the undead, "Name's Boric,"

The undead reached out and accepted the hand as he thought deep into his faded memory as to who he was, soon a name came up, "I'm… Daniel,"

With that the two travelled further north in silence; soon they came to a decrepit archway in the middle of the road with no apparent purpose. The stone was weather worn and crumbling, the mortar barely held the structure together, and likely would have collapsed anyway here it not for the plant roots and ivy growing around the stone. The whole area gave off an ominous presence, as the air grew thick with tension.

"What is this place?" the Undead named Daniel asked as he stood in the middle of the arch in cautious wonder.

"Your gateway to Zhyrleix," Boric said as a shortsword erupted through Daniel's chest, he soon lost consciousness, and died again…


End file.
